


Revolution

by mira_sisko



Category: Supernatural, Terminator (Movies)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Violence, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lawyer!Eileen, M/M, Major Character Injury, Terminator AU, Terminator!Castiel, lawyer!Sam, mechanic!Dean
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-30
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28017366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mira_sisko/pseuds/mira_sisko
Summary: Castiel is the newest and most advanced learning Terminator to roll out of the Legion facility in the year 2023. He is as deadly as he is cold, calculating, and accurate.He only ever failed one task. A single malfunction, or rather, what Legion deemed a malfunction, earned him a spot in line to be decommissioned. As luck would have it; he was saved and sent back in time. A faulty trip through the continuum caused Castiel’s memory database to falter, leaving him lost and confused with only one mission in mind - Protect Dean Winchester.Will be updated every other Thursday 7pm CST.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	1. Where I Belong

June 19, 2016

Electricity arcs across a street lamp, shorting its bulb. Glass shatters and sprinkles the ground while sparks fly from the live wire. A five-foot-tall iridescent bubble shears into existence, cutting into the street lamp at its base and forming a crater in the ground. The bubble dissolves as the street lamp teeters and falls with a crash. A figure emerges shaky, his legs waver for just a moment. A white-hot heat radiates through Castiel's hyper alloy skeleton as his hands fall to the concrete. 

He takes a breath, feeling the weight of his synthetic muscles and skin adjust to the cool temperature. He blinks, his ocular sensors adjusting to the lack of light and he tries ... struggles to remember. The last thing he saw was ... a color, a voice. It's all distant like an image seen through wet glass. His memory processor must be malfunctioning. 

He stands to his full height and scans his immediate surroundings. He's warped into an alley behind a few small restaurants and stores. His clothes didn't make the jump, so he’ll need something to blend in. He starts walking and notes nothing else is damaged. 

He detects a sign for a clothing store. He scans the lock on the back door, grips it in two hands, and rips it in half, pulling open the door. He walks in as the loud klaxon of the building alarm sounds. He grabs the first few things he sees; gym shoes, a grey shirt, a black jacket, and jeans. He’s quick to put them on as the sound of police sirens gets closer. He rushes out the back door and scans everything he can, trying to jog his own memory. He has no time to stop and run a diagnostic check. He keeps moving. He doesn't have time. 

_Why don't I have time?_

Three blocks away from the alley, he stops dead in his tracks. He sees a human leave a red brick apartment building across the street. He feels his muscles tense, the fibers readying themselves to destroy, to tear at the flesh. The human makes their way to their car ... with Kansas license plates.

_Kansas._

_Why do I know this place?_

He blinks a few more times as he hears more sirens. He pushes past the thoughts ... the programming that tells him to tear that car door open. He keeps moving.

Turning a corner down a main road, Castiel sees the sun crest over the horizon for the first time in his life. He peers over a tall hedge and sees the sky change colors; from a dark navy blue to deep orange to a soft pink. As far as he can remember now, he’s not even sure that he’s ever been outside. His memory is all-steel walls, corrugated shelves ... the color green, like dry moss growing in the cracks of the concrete floor of a bunker.

Castiel keeps walking, scanning road signs until he sees a large limestone building that seems to be a focal point of this area. He stops in his tracks in front of the building, scanning and rescanning the title. "Lawrence Library” with a slogan below that reads “ The pride of Lawrence, Kansas”. 

_Lawrence, Kansas._

It’s like a cough deep in his throat. His memory is still faulty but he manages to access a piece, a voice. It’s not his. It's ... got a subtle twang to it that he can't place. It's steadfast and strong, but lilts like a melody.

_“I’d drop my brother off at the library and head down the main street, make a stop at THE best deli in America, and get to the garage. Those days, it's all I could do, you know."_ The voice fades but it lingers somewhere.

_I know that voice._

He turns and scans all directions for the deli. Looking south he sees a sign for Pruscelo's Deli and takes off. Something about that voice makes him want to run, to get there faster. Wherever “there” is. 

The sun is almost fully risen now, the sky taking on a light blue hue. Castiel's sensors tell him it's warm now. He notes that if his external sensors are working then whatever problem he has, it's isolated to just memory. Good news. 

He runs across a street and hears a screech as he narrowly misses getting hit by a car that doesn't stop fast enough at a stoplight. He stumbles and rolls over his shoulder out of the way. He stands as the car honks at him. He hears a voice but he doesn't care about that now because he sees two things. 

First, an auto garage called Singer Automotive Service with a 1967 Chevy Impala pulling around to park in the back. Second, about 500 feet behind that on the top of a parking garage, another Terminator has just landed. He knows because of the sound it makes in his head and the electricity that arcs over cars in the garage. Even before he can make out the figure he knows who it is and why they're here. 

Castiel moves from the sidewalk down the street to get a better angle on both targets. He stops behind a sign next to the garage as the Impala's engine sputters to a stop. 

He watches the driver open the door and step out. His ocular sensors glide over the leather jacket, the dark jeans, and logger boots. His eyes travel up from there and he sees the green in the man's eyes, the cropped brown hair and hears the familiar hum of the man's voice as he finishes out the last chords of a rock song that Castiel can't place. He feels his breath hitch. It must be a nerve signal malfunction.

That doesn't matter though. Nothing else matters now. He remembers why he's here.

He’s here to protect Dean Winchester.

-

\-----

-

Castiel watches as Dean makes his way to the back door of the garage. He glances up to see the other Terminator move to the edge of the parking garage. Castiel vaults over the sign and sprints to the old auto garage. He looks around to the front, no civilians, minimal casualties possible. 

_That's good._

He turns back to a window looking into the garage and sees Dean walking into the shop. That walk is so familiar to Castiel like he’s seen it every day of his life. He focuses on the way Dean sways with ease until his ocular sensors sweep past a window on the opposite side of the garage. That’s when he sees it.

The other Terminator with his body stiff like a missile, careening in from the parking garage. The next thing Castiel knows, he’s throwing himself through the window and sprinting past Dean. He picks up an old muffler and looks back over his shoulder and yells.

“Run!” 

Before he can turn back he hears the glass shatter and feels the other Terminator’s arms slam into his chest. This one didn't bother to find clothes so when Castiel reaches up to grab the Terminator's arm; his grip is faulty. Castiel looks back to see that Dean is still firmly planted, mouth fallen open. The Terminator stands to his full height and whips his head around, jaw set, dark eyes targeting Dean.

“What the f..” Dean starts.

“I said run, you have to get out of here!” Castiel yells as he raises the muffler and swings it against the Terminator's head. The metal dents with a metallic crunch and knocks the Terminator’s head to the side.

"Gadreel!" He yells to the Terminator. "You don't have to do this." Castiel hoists the muffler up and brings it down on his head, hard. Another crunch. Gadreel grips the muffler and tosses it aside, yanking it out of Castiel’s hands. 

"I have my mission," Gadreel says, his voice low and controlled. "Do not speak a name that does not exist. That was always your mistake Unit 13. Your fatal human error." 

Castiel puts his hands up to block, but Gadreel is faster, smashing both fists onto Castiel’s head. Dark, thick synthetic blood oozes from his forehead and trickles over his brow. Castiel returns the favor with an uppercut to the jaw and a jab to the stomach. He finally hears movement behind him and lets a breath out. Out of the corner of his eye though, Castiel sees something else. A shotgun aimed at Gadreel.

“Duck!” Dean yells to Castiel as he crouches behind a counter next to Gadreel. Castiel obliges and he sees buckshot fly into Gadreel's chest, leaving large pock marks in its wake. If he were human he’d be dead, but instead, his metal chassis shines with dark synthetic blood as he twists himself in recoil and swings back to face Dean. Castiel reaches up and catches his arms in a lock, planting his feet and pushing all his weight to keep Gadreel still. 

“Keep shooting!” Castiel yells. Dean's eyes focus too much on the metallic craters but he lets off another shot into Gadreel's chest. Castiel can hear the metallic clang and smell the gunpowder but he knows Gadreel is not budging. It’s going to take more to bring him down.

Castiel shifts his weight to have his back to Gadreel, he locks his joints below the waist, hoists him up on his back, and tosses Gadreel. He lands with a crash against a brick wall. Heavy metal shelving units holding boxes with shop rags, auto parts, and old tools collapse and fall on to him, leaving him covered in debris. For a moment there is silence. 

“We have to leave, now.” Castiel turns back to Dean. Dean slowly looks to Castiel and then back to the rubble.

“He looks pretty dead to me ... whatever he is.” Dean takes a few steps closer. Castiel puts up a hand as he scans the rubble. A box of rags shifts and through the rubble he sees the heat of Gadreel's power cell. It does not dim.

“Trust me, he's not.” Castiel pauses pushing Dean back towards the counter. Dean looks down at Castiel's hand and moves away from it. 

"Buddy, what the hell?" Dean says putting his hands up in front of him, keeping his eyes on Castiel.

Castiel stares back at Dean. It's familiar somehow, standing opposite Dean. Like he's been here before, with just a short barrier between them.

He hears the rubble move again and looks to the window he jumped through. He stays silent as he makes his way to it and pulls himself over the window sill. He turns back to Dean and waits. Dean’s gaze moves to the pile of rubble. When Dean doesn't make a move to leave, Castiel yells.

“Come with me if you want to live.” 

Dean snaps back to Castiel, gulps down a breath of air, and moves to pick up his keys and another case of shotgun shells. Dean takes a last look at his shop and groans as he hoists himself out of the window.

“We’ll have to use your vehicle for now and then find another one. Gadreel will have scanned this one already. He’ll know it’s yours.” Castiel says while walking to the Impala.

“I’m sorry buddy, I think I deserve some answers before you get in my freakin' car. What the hell was that thing. Who are you? ... I mean, What the hell is going on?” Dean replies, throwing a hand up in front of him. Castiel turns on his heel.

“We don’t have time for this, he will keep coming for you, he will not stop. He is going to kill you, Dean. We have to go, I can explain once we're on the road.” Castiel says looking between Dean and the broken window.

“How am I supposed to trust you?” Dean replies, shaking his head and laying his shotgun on his shoulder. Castiel scans through his memory. He can access the facts right now, and maybe that's all he needs.

“You ... are Dean Winchester." He starts, choosing his words carefully. "You were born on January 24th, 1990. Your parents were Mary and John. Mary died shortly after your brother, Sam was born and John died in the military. You own and live in this shop which was given to you by Bobby Singer. You and your brother were both in ROTC and when Sam dropped out ...” Castiel pauses looking to Dean. This isn't a fact, but it's something he remembers now. Something Dean told him, or rather will tell him, only once in between swigs of shitty whiskey, “You were devastated."

Dean's head cocks to one side and he takes a gulp of air. He squints his eyes and for a moment looks like he's going to speak.

"How ..." Dean starts.

Castiel hears movement in the shop and looks to the window. He looks back to Dean. 

"Don't ... " Dean points the shotgun at Castiel, "make me regret this." Dean finishes as he opens the door, leans over, and unlocks the passenger side door. The engine roars to life as they hear glass shatter inside the shop. Castiel slides into the passenger side and shuts the door. Dean floors it and backs up just as they see Gadreel leap out of the window.

Dean changes gears and slams his foot on the gas, lurching the car forward and speeding around the shop on to the road. Castiel looks out the rearview to see Gadreel pick up speed running behind them. Dean turns down a one-way street.

“Give me your shotgun. We need to get on a highway.” Castiel says as he holds his hand out. Dean scoffs and looks at Castiel. His brow furrows. 

“What’s your name?” Dean says. Castiel cocks his head.

“I don’t see how that is relevant to the ...” Dean cuts in.

“I need a name if I’m gonna give you my gun and take orders from you,” Dean says turning another corner. "This is a Winchester family heirloom, man." He says, slapping the barrel of the shotgun.

“Castiel.” He replies. Dean blinks a few times and shrugs sliding his shotgun across the seat. 

“Alright Castiel, break it, you owe me,” Dean says. “Nearest highway is about a mile away, just have to make a few turns.” Castiel feels the gun hit his hand but the sound of his name coming out of Dean's mouth, its all he hears. It's all he can feel ... sense. All other sound is sucked out of the air.

Dean reaches in his pocket and tosses over the box of bullets. Castiel looks in his lap and blinks. The red shells are like blood, like a pool of it gathering in front of him. He blinks again and loads the shotgun. He's done it a thousand times, but this time the familiar sound of plastic against metal and wood is gone, warbled. Instead, he just hears Dean's voice.

_Castiel. Castiel. Castiel ... Cas._

"You ... are you good over there?" Dean says, leaning forward, trying to follow Castiel's distant gaze. Sound returns to him as a scream comes from Gadreel’s direction. A civilian must've gotten in his way.

"Y ... yes." Castiel manages.

He leans out the window searching for Gadreel. He finally spots him a few cars behind them. Sure enough, he sees a woman on the ground with a bloody nose.

He aims and lets off two shots at Gadreel. One nicks his ankle while the other hit his arm. Gadreel slows to a jog now, not able or not willing to keep up with the vehicle. Castiel knows the civilians, like that woman, leaving their homes for work, seeing a 6' tall naked man running down the street is going to draw too much attention for a Terminator. Castiel leans back in. 

“He’s slowed down, for now. He'll find another way to get to you, he'll find a way to blend in. We have some time, at least.” Castiel says. 

“Great ... Well, we’re on the road now; so can you tell me what’s going on. Who was that? ... Why was he ... naked.” Dean replies. Castiel turns, eyes fixed on the rearview mirror.

“That ... was a Terminator. Model name Global Advanced Defense: Revision - Eliminator Line or Gadreel. He’s a cybernetic organism sent back in time nine years from now to kill you. In the future, a military defense program called Skynet becomes sentient and turns against humanity bringing on the destruction of the world. That apocalypse was halted by John and Sarah Connor. A new force named Legion adopted the same technology and 4 Years from now Legion will attack the world. Few humans survive, but those that do build a resistance. You, along with a handful of others, become leaders in that resistance under a woman named Dani Ramos.” He should go on. He could, but the pained look on Dean's face tells him to stop. There’s a long pause, long enough for Castiel to scan their surroundings and get a negative reading on Gadreel's power core. 

“Cybernetic ... what, like robots?.” Dean shakes his head. He turns the car again down a one-way road. “But he was ... a guy." Dean continues looking down at his own lap.

"Terminators are biologically modeled after humans. It makes it easier to blend in." Castiel says.

"Man. I've ... heard a lot of crazy shit in my day, but this. How am I supposed to believe you? For all I know you could be here to kill me.” Dean says.

“I am here to protect you. I was sent here to ensure your safety and make sure you become the leader you were meant to be." He thinks. He's not sure. His memory is still faulty. All Castiel knows is that when he looks at Dean, he feels the desire, no, the need to protect him. It's ingrained in his programming. "There is a line ... for the things I can tell you. Too much information can jeopardize my mission and change the future for the worse.” Castiel says scanning again. He can see the highway now.

“Come on, man, you gotta give me something,” Dean says. Silence fills the car as Castiel searches his database for what information he can release, for what he can say that will convince Dean.

“This vehicle.” He pauses laying a hand on the dashboard. “A 1967 Chevy Impala that was given to you by your father. You never let anyone drive it and ... you call it 'baby'.” Castiel replies. Dean comes to a stop at a stoplight. He turns his head slowly to Castiel, brows furrowed. 

“How do you know that? I haven't ... I mean not even Sam,” Dean almost grumbles. Castiel sensors tell him Dean’s face is getting warmer. According to his programming, that usually accompanies anger. Castiel pauses, examining Dean's face, each line pinging a different memory.

He remembers Dean in the future or parts of his future at least. He remembers crow’s feet and graying hair, but the same voice, the same eyes staring back at him. He remembers being built and programmed with Legion’s most advanced learning computer. Tearing through human flesh with his bare hands. Dean's face with tears rolling down it as he sits at the business end of a rifle that's seated firmly in Castiel's hands. Being hunkered down in a concrete hideaway for a year, protecting Dean from the Terminators that will be sent to kill him. Most of his memories are still clouded, still buried but ... 

“Because you told me.” He replies. “7 years from now. You tell me about your life, your parents, about Sam. Everything.” Dean looks at Castiel and doesn't move a muscle until he hears a car honk behind him. He lays his foot on the gas pedal and they merge onto the highway. Castiel watches Dean swallow deep and take a breath. 

“Who sent you here?” Dean asks. 

Castiel looks at him, looks at Dean's eyes darting from him to the road and back to him. He's putting it together in his head, what the future holds. Dean knows the answer, he just needs to hear it. Castiel looks ahead to the highway. They are safe. For now. His mouth twists almost into a smirk, or at least an approximation of one. The Terminators never could nail down a smile. Castiel replies.

“You did.”

-

\-----

-

The Impala is quiet or three hours as they pass through Omaha, Nebraska. Castiel labors over every moment, wondering if he should be the first to speak. Castiel sees a sign for a rest stop coming up and looks to Dean. 

"It should be safe to stop for a moment. Your tank is almost empty." Castiel says. Dean nods as he merges over a lane. He takes the exit and slows to a stop near a gas pump. The two get out of the car. Dean walks over to the pump and pauses looking at Castiel. Castiel stands next to the car, brow furrowed, scanning the highway for any sign of Gadreel. Dean looks around for a moment. 

"Something wrong? You look like you're gonna shit yourself." Dean chuckles as he begins to pump gas. Castiel turns to face Dean. 

"I do not.” His head tilts “I don't need to defecate." Castiel replies. 

"It was a joke. What, they don't make jokes in the future." Dean says as he closes the gas cap and leans over the car. Castiel turns back to scan the road. 

_You made jokes._ He thinks. _Only you._

“Sounds bleak.” Dean finishes sliding back into the driver's seat. 

Castiel can hear the click of the door lock and Dean's heart rate rises. Castiel turns back to the car and grabs for the handle. Dean rolls the window down only an inch.

"Look Castiel. I just ... You got that gash on your face with ... " Dean lowers his voice "With that stuff coming out of it. You know, I know what blood looks like, real blood. That ain't it. It’s the same as the other guys." He pauses placing a hand on the shotgun. "You're ... not human, are you?" Dean says.

"I ..." Castiel starts. "Yes. I am a Terminator. My name ... My model is The Cyberdyne 4th System: T13 Legacy, or as you called me, Castiel. My specialty is human infiltration, with blending and learning being my strengths. Although, you always said I could never get the hang of humanities quirks." He forces a small calculated smile. He watches Dean. Looking through the glass of the window forces a memory to surface. A memory of being dragged away from Dean, the rifle being pulled from his hands. Of being thrown into a containment room while Terminators swarmed Dean.

"I ... was programmed to kill but I couldn't kill one target. I couldn't pull the trigger. I ... " Castiel stops and whips his head around as he hears the distant revving of a motor. He scans the highway and sees Gadreel, finally wearing clothes. He sits atop a large motorcycle and has started merging to take the exit toward the rest stop. 

"Holy shit," Dean says after he follows Castiel's gaze. Castiel whips back to Dean. 

"Dean. You may not believe me, but I don't know how else to make you understand." Castiel says shaking his head.

_I'm beggin you, Cas. Please don't do this._

Castiel blinks and opens his mouth again.

"I am ... I am begging you. Please ... Let me in." Castiel says, the last few words coming out as more of a growl than he intends. 

Dean looks at him, eyes focusing on the way Castiel's face almost crumples under the weight of ... fear? Pain? His blue eyes pierce into Dean’s skull. _A Terminator could probably rip that door off its hinges._ Dean thinks. _So why isn't Castiel? Why isn't he breaking the glass and forcing his way in?_

Castiel looks back to see Gadreel gaining speed on the ramp. Dean follows his gaze again.

Castiel hears the door unlock. He lets out a breath and pulls the door open. He slides into the seat and reaches for the shotgun and bullets. Dean slams on the gas just as Gadreels front wheel hits the parking lot. Smoke billows out behind them as Castiel leans out the passenger window. He lets off a shot, trying to not hit any bystanders. The shot blows past Gadreels head as he turns to follow the impala. 

Dean merges into traffic and slows down, weaving in and out of it. He handles the car like a dream. Castiel reloads the shotgun and aims at the motorcycle’s tires. One-shot hits the car behind Gadreel and the other nicks Gadreels shoe. Gadreel looks down at his shoe, a twisted snarl crossing his face. He reaches behind his back and pulls out a large pistol. He aims at the Impala and fires off three shots. The first flies past the hood and hits the back of a delivery truck next to the Impala. The second one clips Dean’s headlight, sending glass flying in every direction. The third makes a loud thud as it hits the trunk.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean yells. "If he hits my car again, I'll rip his head off!" 

Castiel aims and shoots two more shots. The first hits the handle of the bike, forcing Gadreel to let go. The other clips the ground in front of Gadreel. He swerves to avoid it but quickly regains control. Castiel aims again but loses sight when Gadreel disappears behind a semi-truck. He reloads the shotgun and waits. He listens for the motorcycle as Dean changes lanes, moving away from the semi-truck. 

"I've lost sight. We need to get on a different highway." Castiel says.

"Alright, looks like an exit coming up here," Dean replies.

Just as Dean merges over Castiel spots Gadreel, only now he's maneuvered between cars and is gaining on them, riding the centerline. Gadreel pays no mind to the side mirrors he's knocking off of the cars he passes. Castiel leans out once more as Dean merges to the new highway. 

He fires two shots. The first hits Gadreel square on the side of his head. It sends his synthetic skin flying and reveals his gunmetal skeleton underneath. The other nicks the front tire. It’s a small bite but it's enough to grip the pavement. Gadreel tries to break but the rubber burns beneath him and the bike flips back over front, sending him headfirst into the trunk of the car in front of him. The crunch of metal and glass is loud enough to hear for miles. Cars behind the wreck burn rubber trying to brake before hitting the stopped car.

"Nice shot!" Dean laughs as he slaps the steering wheel. "You nailed the son of a bitch." Castiel leans back into the Impala. 

"He is still alive," Castiel says. He can still read the energy core.

"Shit, really? What does it take to kill a ... a Terminator?" Dean asks.

"Usually?" Castiel accesses his database. "Anything molten, explosions." He replies. "The whole unit has to be destroyed. For the future's sake, nothing can be left behind."

Dean nods and looks to Castiel.

"Well," His head cocks to the side just a bit "Sounds like we gotta explode the son of a bitch." Dean grins wide at Castiel. 

Castiel wishes he hadn't seen it. That toothy smile, broad and warm. The smile reaches Dean's green eyes and pulls his nose up just a bit. The smile that he recognizes so clearly now, from the last time he saw Dean ... in the future.

Castiel blinks and for a moment he's back there, back in the 'jump room' as they called it. Dean stands at a console, bloodied and beaten, typing furiously. Lights flash against his face from red to green. He glances behind him as the archway fills with gunfire. Castiel tries to get to him, but the glass door in front of him has locked itself into the jump chamber. A countdown begins. 

_5..._

Dean turns back to face Castiel. Their eyes meet. Castiel can't help but scream his name.

_4..._

A smile spreads on Dean's face, reaching from ear to ear, tears welling up in his eyes. He says something, but Castiel can't hear it.

_3..._

The sharp metal arm of a Terminator slams into Dean's back from behind. Castiel watches Dean crumple to the ground, his blood pooling in front of the console; those green eyes fluttering.

_2..._

The Terminator, Gadreel, turns to Castiel now, swinging its arm into the console. Sparks fly in every direction.

_1... Malfunction ... Malfunction ... 1 ... Initiating Jump ... Malfunction_

Then a flash of light. 

_0..._

Electricity igniting his frame. 

Darkness.

Then the alley.


	2. Autocorrect

May 3rd, 2023

Red fills Unit 13's vision. As the red goes from a crimson to dark maroon and then to a cool grey, their surroundings settle into place. They see a grey concrete room and thick dark cables running towards them along the ground. Words flash across their vision.

_Booting ... Booting ... Booting_

"Cas? Is it … are you..." A low voice calls. It registers as a male, probably in his late 30's. Unit 13 lifts its head to see a human. One with light brown hair and bright green eyes wearing a dark grey jumpsuit. The way the human's unshaven face contorts into a small smile makes Unit 13s head tilt. 

"Winchester." Another deep voice echoes into the room. The green-eyed man pulls himself back and drops his face to the ground. His body freezes as the other man approaches. Unit 13 runs a scan on the first man. Words flash in yellow across his vision.

_Human ..._ _Mechanical Programmer ..._ _Age 38 years … Height 73 inches … Weight 170 pounds ..._ _Legion Slave ID 1928311 ..._ _Dean Winchester_

"Let me look at Unit 13." The other man says. He wears a similar dark grey jumpsuit, only he has a red band across the chest with the number 0943 plastered across it. The red band pings a line of programming in Unit 13, telling them they must do no harm to this man. The man moves into the room and regards the other man with a disjointed look, washing his eyes over his posture. Unit 13 runs a scan on the second man. 

_Human ..._ _Cybernetic Enhancements: Right arm up to shoulder joint, 4 ribs - right side, total hip replacement, Right leg - knee joint down_

_Legion Pardoned Slave ..._ _Age 45 years … Height 73 inches … Weight 197 pounds ..._ _Legion Slave ID 0943 ... U_ _riel_

Unit 13 scans the rest of the room to find that one wall, where Uriel entered, is bulletproof glass with seams that indicate a door. Across the way is another room identical to this one, but it's lacking a Legion unit and a human programmer. The metal table Unit 13 sits on registers as cold, even through the black jumpsuit they've finally noticed they're wearing. They move to stand but as their feet hit the floor a nerve signal is sent to their main processor. It registers as sharp, biting pain, and Unit 13 buckles under their own weight. 

"Woah, hey ... hey," Dean says as he moves forward, arms outstretched, landing on Unit 13's shoulder. "Take it easy. Your processor is just booting up." The naked touch of a human sends another signal, one that Unit 13 can not ignore. 

_Human ..._

As both of Dean's hands rest on Unit 13's shoulders, they raise their head to meet the green eyes. Eyes that dart across Unit 13's face. Dean's face twists, his eyebrows turning up in the middle, his eyes going wide. Dean's jaw muscles flex before his lips part.

"I ... your ch... " Dean starts close enough to Unit 13 that they can feel their breath on their synthetic skin.

_Human ... Enemy._

Unit 13 whips up their own hands to clash with Dean's, grabbing both of his wrists. 

"Wait ... " Dean whispers. Unit 13 throws both wrists to his left, sending Dean into a work table. His back hits the edge of it with a crack and he crumbles to the ground. Low controlled laughter erupts from Uriel. 

_Human ... Enemy ... Kill._

Unit 13 moves to hover over Dean as he reaches towards his neck. His hands close over it easily and squeeze. 

"Cas." Dean chokes out as he reaches up to Unit 13's wrists, prying at them, using all of his strength. "Cas ... Dammit." He sputters. The creases in Dean's face only deepen as his face begins to turn white. "Castiel." He croaks.

"Why do you keep calling me that?" Unit 13 finally speaks, their voice graveled and quiet. "My designation is ... Cyberdy..."

"That's not ..." Dean cuts in, gasping for air. " ... not you, Cas." Dean reaches for the collar of Unit 13's black coveralls. He's weak so his grip is faulty, but he still tries to pull Unit 13 down, closer. Closer to Dean.

Unit 13 loosens his grip on Dean's neck if only to pull back from Dean's grip.

"What?" Unit 13 says, less sounding like a question and more like a command.

"It's ..." Dean coughs. "It's your na..." Dean struggles to take a breath, gulping hard. Unit 13 could feel the muscles tense under his hands.

"Winchester. You're close to getting sent to the crucible as it is." Uriel's voice echoes behind Unit 13. He takes a few steps towards Unit 13. "Let him go. He remains useful to Legion ... for now." 

Unit 13's grip on Dean's neck is loose as they look back at Dean. His eyes are full of water. The rest of his face though is cold, vacant but searching Unit 13's face. Unit 13's processors sense the man's eyes dilating, indicating recognition, but a recognition that is impossible to return. Impossible to comprehend. 

Unit 13 releases his grip on Dean's neck. 

"Now, We have some diagnostics to run before we get you on the shooting range," Uriel says, turning his back. Unit 13 turns to follow the orders easily and makes it almost past the glass doorway when he stops. He turns his head barely, just enough to see Dean still on the ground, one knee now pulled to his chest. He won't take his eyes off of Unit 13.

"It's your damn name, Cas," Dean says, his voice grating, low and uneven. He shakes his head and drops it into his hands. 

Unit 13 tilts their head at Dean and watches as the shaking extends to the rest of him. This human does not appear to have suffered major injuries, but they are still ... showing signs of pain. Crying. Heaving breaths. Elevated heart rate. Excessive Sweating.

Unit 13 logs this encounter under Human Fallacies. 

-

\-----

-

June 19, 2016

Castiel stands on the sidewalk of another gas station. It's a small town, Blair, but Castiel is still watching the roads for any sign of Gadreel. They are, after all, only 30 miles from his wreckage. Castiel knows he'll need time to repair himself, but not much. Dean watches the gas pump and glances at Castiel. The thought crosses his mind to lock the doors and try to get away again until Castiel turns and catches his eyes. As soon as blue meets green, both men look away. Castiel walks towards Dean, scanning again as he goes. 

"We seem to be in the clear. You'll need to eat." Castiel gestures to the gas station mart. "Will this suffice?" 

Dean closes his gas cap and cocks his head at Castiel. 

"Boy, you sure know how to treat a lady," Dean smirks. Castiel watches as the smirk fades away. "Let me guess, you don't have money in the future." 

"If I had any currency, It would have disintegrated in the continuum jump," Castiel says almost shrugging. 

"Continuum jump. Yeah, alright." Dean says slowly nodding. He unlocks the Impala doors. "Look, just wait here. I'll get some dollar tacos and cheese whiz for the road." Dean says as he turns away. 

Castiel obliges and opens the passenger door, not taking his eyes off of Dean until he's inside the mart. He turns his head and watches the street. It's quiet, early evening and Castiel breathes for what feels like the first time today. His memory processor is still repairing itself, but looking at Dean, hell, just being around him is ... enough it seems, to jog it.

He looks down at his hands and blinks at them. He doesn't remember the feel of Dean's neck in his hands but he sees it, the memory is there and it pangs against his programming, makes a sound in his head that registers as an error. He looks back to the mart to see Dean putting change in his wallet and moving to leave the mart. As he does he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out.

_Oh no._

Castiel almost rips the door off its hinges getting out of the Impala.

"Dean!" He yells. Passer-byers stop and look. He was louder than he intended, his voice sounding like the growl of an engine, but it worked. Dean stops dead in his tracks. Castiel quickly closes the distance between them and reaches up. "Give me that."

"What, my phone?" Dean asks, clutching an old android cell phone.

"Yes, give it to me," Castiel says.

"What? No. I'm calling Sam. I gotta let him know what's going on." Dean says moving past Castiel to the car.

"Dean. Don't walk a...." Castiel moves to follow Dean but stops when Dean looks back, eyes glaring back at him. "You can't call your brother." Dean turns fully facing Castiel now. "I won't allow you."

"Excuse me?" Dean says darting his face forward. "You're not gonna allow me?" Dean scoffs, turning his back to Castiel once more.

"Dean. You have to understand something ... " Castiel steps forward, lifting his hands in front of himself. "Terminators ... " Castiel pauses, "Our main directive in any situation like this is to find the target's weakness and exploit it. Lure them in by any means necessary. Your brother will be compromised and used as bait."

"Bait?" Dean snaps, whipping his head back to Castiel. "You're telling me that dick is gonna use Sam as bait and you expect me to, what? Leave him in the dust?" 

"Dean, I know ... " Castiel starts.

"No." He lets out an angry scoff. "No, you know what, you don't know. Sammy is pretty much all the family I have left. You keep saying things like you know me. You expect me to give him up?" Dean says turning around. "You're friggin nuts, you know that?" 

"Dean. Wait." Castiel follows him closer now focusing on the phone. "It's not just Sam. You can't call anyone. That phone is useless now. Gadreel will try to access wireless databases to locate you. It's a literal beacon telling him where you are." He finishes.

Dean lets out a grunt and a heavy laugh. He wipes a hand over his face as he gets to the Impala first and turns back to face Castiel. 

"Well, what the hell am I supposed to do then, huh?" Dean says, loudly. Castiel looks at him and swallows. The woman next to her Nissan at the pump across the way stops and turns, craning her neck in their direction.

"Dean, you're drawing too much attention," Castiel says. 

Dean shakes his head and claps his hands together. 

"So what? Let him come to me. I dare him." Dean says even louder, pointing a finger at Castiel.

"Dean, stop." 

"Why? Why should I? Look ever since you showed up, my shops wrecked, I'm gonna lose my car, and Sam is on the line now too? And for what? For some Back to the Future bullshit? I'm supposed to care about all this? What happens if I don't? What happens if I just give up." 

Dean stares at Castiel, face twisted, mouth pulled into a thin sharp line. His eyes almost glow with a fury that Castiel hasn’t seen in a long time. Castiel hears the click of the gas pump across the way. It startles the woman who was staring enough to make her look away. 

"Are you done?" Castiel almost closes the distance, leaving two feet between them. Dean pulls his head back and furrows his brow.

"Am I done? What the fu ... " Dean's face scrunches.

"Dean." Castiel starts, trying to keep his voice low and quiet. "I wish I could tell you that it's all worth it. But I can't. What happens in the future is bleak and cold and a lot of people are going to die. A lot more will though if you don't buck up and grapple with your destiny."

"My destiny?" Dean laughs hard for a moment. "There's no such thing." Dean throws his arms out at his sides. "That's just your bullshit way of saying, 'You have no choice, do what I say'." Dean closes his hands into fists. For a second, Castiel thinks that Dean is about to swing at him.

"That's not what I mean, Dean. You have a choice." Castiel says, craning his neck forward.

"Yeah, well. It really feels like I don't." Dean leans against the Impala and shoves his hands in his pockets. His face falls and lolls to either side. Castiel can almost see his will breaking.

"Dean I'm not here to tell you what to do. I'm just trying to protect you. That's all." 

Dean rolls his eyes and runs his palms through his hair. 

"So." Dean shrugs. "That's it then? My life is just this now? Running, surviving, eating gas station delicacies? With you?" Dean says those last few words hitting Castiel like a heavy interference. "I mean can I ever go back home? All my stuff at the garage ..."

"We can't go back there, not yet. We kill Gadreel and you'll be safe for a time." Castiel says.

"A time? What's that supposed to mean?" Dean says opening the door. He lets his body fall into the car and leans in. The thought crosses Castiel's programming that Dean will try to cut and run again.

But he doesn't. Dean waits. 

Castiel crosses the front of the car and slides into the passenger seat.

"It means that..." Castiel looks to Dean. The pained look on Dean's face holds steady. "It means that I'm sorry."

Dean stares out the window. He cocks his head to one side with a smirk.

"Tinman's got a heart, after all," Dean says as he looks to Castiel and lets out a sigh. Castiel looks back, eyeing the phone in Dean's hand. His eyes flick back to Dean's face, to his eyes. "Didn't think a killing machine could be sorry."

"I can generate extremely close approximations of human emotions," Castiel says, his voice quiet. "It's the best I can do." 

"Yeah, I'm sure it is." Dean says, jaw set, as he turns the key in the ignition. "Look. You won’t let me call. Whatever, but I'm driving to California to get to Sam first. If you want to try to stop me, that's fine. You know, I got no problem dying over this. I won't leave Sam to that. I won't."

"I understand." 

Dean twists his head towards Castiel, his brows furrowing for just a moment. 

"You're not gonna stop me?" Dean says squinting his eyes. Castiel shakes his head back and forth. He watches the way Dean gulps down air, the way his muscles in his neck tighten, how they tightened against his hands when he was first booted up. He looks back to his hands, now curling into tight fists. His programming works overtime to correct, reroute, to dig deep into his base.

_Dean._

_Human._

"Like I said Dean, I'm just trying to protect you. I don't want to hurt you." Castiel lifts his head and turns it slowly "I will never ... hurt you." Castiel's voice sounds like a warm hum, in the end, vibrating over to Dean who looks back at him, mouth open. He closes his mouth, almost as if to form a word but nothing leaves his lips. Dean and Castiel stare into each other for what feels like an eternity. The sound of an engine knocking in the gas pump behind them jolts Dean and forces him to glance away, looking to the rearview mirror. 

"Um. Okay." Dean almost whispers. It sounds more like a question than a statement. 

He rubs a hand over his mouth, almost to make sure it’s still there. He takes his phone in the other hand and lifts it over to Castiel. Castiel takes it in his hands and grips both ends of the phone. He wrenches it and watches as the screen flickers white, red, green, and blue. Cracks in the glass shoot out as the phone is crumpled easily in his hands. Castiel rolls his window down and tosses aiming for the trashcan between gas pumps. The phone hits with a thud as Castiel rolls his window up.

"We want to get on the highway ... US 77 S will take us to California. We will need to stop for you to sleep."

"Yeah, yeah. I can go pretty long without sleep." Dean says as he presses on the gas pedal.

"Not longer than me," Castiel says.

"Did you just … Is that a challenge?" 

"I don't ... " Castiel cocks his head to the side. "It's not a challenge. I don't have to sleep. The closest approximation is a restorative state similar to meditation, but I don't sleep." Castiel replies. 

Dean clicks his tongue.

"I dunno Cas, I get enough coffee in me, I think I'd outlast ya." Dean turns forward and takes the exit onto the road. He fiddles with the radio and shoves in a cassette tape. Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin blares over the old speakers. Dean smiles a little and taps his hands on the steering wheel to the beat. His stare is distant. Searching.

Castiel is frozen before the last words Dean says even reaches his ears. The singing voice coming from the radio is just a vibration, translating itself at a snail's pace as Castiel rolls over Dean's voice again and again.

_Cas._

Castiel stares ahead at the road and hears Dean's voice in his head. Old and new.

He almost feels the rifle in his hands, almost feels the concrete under his feet, and almost sees Dean on the ground in front of him, a bloody gash across his face and chest. His memory processor is working overtime and most of it is static until Dean speaks.

_It's ok Cas. It's ok. If it had to be someone, I'm glad it's you ... I'm glad it's you._

-

\-----

-

June 20, 2016

"You're really just gonna stand there ..." Dean grumbles turning over in the motel bed. He faces Castiel now, who is standing in the corner opposite the bed, shotgun in hand. 

Dean was right for the most part about not needing sleep. He had driven for a full 12 hours and swerved only once before he pulled over at a motel at three in the morning. The room itself had peeling light blue wallpaper covering up some awful orange paint job. It had only one queen-sized bed with grey fleece blankets that felt like sandpaper, a lumpy blue chair, and a small dresser. It was the last room they had, but Dean was too tired to complain about the state of the place. He'd taken the room key and almost fallen asleep twice just walking over to the room. 

Castiel opted to lean at a spot on the wall, a place where he could see through the window and have a beeline to the front door at the same time. 

"I don't know what you expect me to do, Dean," Castiel replies, shaking his head. "I don't sleep. It's safer for me to keep watch." Castiel's voice prickles just a bit. 

Dean rolls his eyes and pulls the covers up to his neck.

"Well, it's creepy. I can't sleep like this. I bet I’d sleep better in the car." Dean says laying on his back, staring at the ceiling. Silence takes the room quickly until the only sound is traffic from the highway a few streets over. Dean opens his mouth a few times, maybe trying to start different sentences and failing to complete the first sound. He finally manages ... 

"Hey ... what. Uh." He lets out a sigh. "What _can_ you tell me? About the future."

Castiel looks at Dean. He looks down and back out the window.

"I can't tell you everything." Castiel starts. "I can tell you broad strokes, I can tell you what you already know. Not much else."

"That's so helpful. Thanks." Dean smacks his hands against the blankets and crosses his arms.

"Dean, I wish I could tell you, but truth be told ... I can't remember a lot of it. Something happened." He stops. Castiel blinks and the countdown rings in his head. "A malfunction. My memory chip was damaged and it's trying to repair itself. Memories come back in pieces here and there."

"What happened?" Dean says, sitting up on his arms.

"I ... " Castiel's eyes stare into Deans. 

Terminators _can_ lie. It's a part of their programming. Lying makes you more human, which makes you smarter, which makes you vulnerable. It's all part of the act. Looking at Dean now though, Castiel knows he wouldn't be able to look him in the eyes and tell him the truth, even in part. There would be questions, there would be consequences. So, Castiel looks away, stares up at the moon ... and lies. 

"I don't know." 

Dean sits up fully and pulls his legs towards him. There's a long silence as Dean pulls at the fibers of the blanket. 

"I'm sorry, man. That bites." Dean says with a shrug. He pauses and cracks his knuckles quietly. "What you said before ... uh about the future being bleak and cold. Is ... I mean you say I'm gonna be some big leader. Am I ... Am I, you know ..." Dean can't finish his sentence. He runs a hand over his mouth. 

Castiel cocks his head to the side. Dean has never looked this vulnerable, this small and quiet. Castiel wonders where this came from, where the Dean who was ready to shoot a Terminator without question went.

"You have help, in the future. You're not alone." Castiel says.

"I get that. I just ... look you know about my past, clearly, so you should know I've always taken orders, been nothing but a grunt. I followed my dad into the army and didn't look back. So I’ve held a rifle in my hands before, big deal. I dragged Sammy into it too until the old man died. After that, It was losing myself in some blonde, some hustling, and some whiskey. Hell, I sleep through my alarm most days, have a beer and bar food for most meals. I'm supposed to be this savior. This ... this hero." Dean says, still looking at the blanket, almost studying its peaks and valleys. "I guess I just. I mean, why me man?"

Castiel looks at him, now with moonlight shining over half of Dean's face, the light illuminating the green in his eyes, and the light freckles on his face. A flash of an older Dean, in the same position, in a similar moonlight blinks into Castiel's memory.

Dean sits against a cold concrete wall in a cave that's mostly underground. Castiel sits next to him, shoulders almost touching. There's one entrance into a larger cave system, but over the years, explosions have blasted away at the cave roof. As holes appeared, Castiel would shove steel plates or thick dark bulletproof glass into them, making small makeshift skylights. It wasn’t much but it's all they had.

The moonlight streaming in prickles at Dean's face, this time exposing the grey in his beard and along his temple.

"You know when I first met you, you were just this machine, but you were always ... you cared. Somehow. I never understood why ... not until ... " Dean stops as his eyes flick to Castiel as he licks his lips. "Uh. I was stubborn. It's gonna take a lot ... you know. I'm not the best listener back then."

"You still aren't." Castiel retorts. Dean huffs out a quiet laugh. The two are silent. Dean leans back till his head hits the cold wall. His eyes droop to a close. He lets out a low hum as he lifts the half-empty bottle of Kentucky Whiskey he'd been nursing to his lips. Castiel watches as he takes a long swig, long enough that he knows Dean will be knocked out soon. 

"Yeah, yeah I know. You, uh ... you didn't give up though. Like the friggin Energizer Bunny. Didn't give up on me, even when I was ... " He stares ahead with a soft smile for a second before he blinks and takes another swig. He takes his free hand and slaps the back of it against Castiel’s knee. "You've just always been there Cas and I …” He pulls his hand back and rolls it into a fist in his lap. “You know, I always … want to tell you more but I know it'd disrupt the timeline … er whatever." His voice was so low now that had Castiel been human, he wouldn't have been able to hear him. Dean's eyes flick to Cas' and back to his drink. "This whole thing is just a mess, you know. The past, the future, Legion ... Us." 

Dean looks to Castiel again and doesn’t look away. He pulls the whiskey to his lips but doesn't drink. He just holds the bottle there where his warm breath blooms on the cold bottle. Castiel meets his gaze and cocks his head to the side. Castiel notes Dean’s eyes dilate and his heart rate picks up. 

“Dean …” Castiel starts. Dean's eyes almost dilate wider at the sound of his name. He lowers his hand with the bottle. Castiel can feel Dean leaning closer, the fabric of his shirt pinching between their shoulders. Castiel continues, “Are you alright?” 

Dean blinks a few times and pulls back, plastering his back to the wall. He lets out a heavy breath and brings two fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. He clenches his jaw and purses his lips.

"Yeah … yeah, I um … Yeah.” Dean, almost coughing out his words. Dean lifts the bottle to his face again but Castiel puts a hand up.

"You should try to sleep without that knocking you out for once," Castiel says. 

Dean looks at Castiel for a long time. He turns his head forward, closes his eyes, and smiles just a bit. He drops his head down and moves the bottle towards Castiel’s hands. Castiel takes the bottle and sets it down, replacing the cap. Dean nods a few times and crosses his arms.

"You just can't stop saving my life, huh, Cas ... " Dean says, his words drifting as he leans back against the wall, letting his head loll back and land on Castiel’s shoulder.

Castiel sits like this for approximately 37 minutes. Castiel could sit there forever really, holding Dean up against the harsh reality of the world. But, he knows in the morning Dean will be the furthest thing from warm. Will push Castiel away, keep him at arm's length. It’s as if the night calls out of him a ghost of his past self. The man he used to be. The one whose memories flow to the brim, threatening to spill over with just another drink of whiskey. 

It never comes because soon the sunlight shines through the cave and the old Dean is gone. The Dean that runs, hides, and kills during the day is a hard shell, the one that won't crack under the pressure of the apocalypse. Especially the one in his own head.

Castiel grabs a sleeping roll and shoves it slowly under Dean's head, careful to avoid a freshly bandaged cut on Dean’s neck. He pulls a blanket up over Dean and places a pistol near his hands. Dean feels safer that way, even in his sleep. Castiel stands, picking up the rifle as he moves to the small triangular opening to the cave. He leans against the cold concrete and scans down the cave corridor. Nothing comes up. Just darkness, with the occasional shift in the moonlight through the skylights. His time at night is spent staring down the cave and glancing back to watch Dean sleep. It's the best he can do these days.

Castiel blinks again as the memory fades. He looks at Dean sitting in the motel room bed. His eyes scan over Dean’s face over the way his eyes squint against the moonlight, and the way his nose wrinkles. He’s so different and so much the same. 

Castiel lets the shotgun fall to his side as he moves closer to Dean.

"I know you doubt yourself, but ... " The way Dean closes his eyes and lets his head roll forward makes Castiel pause. "You save a lot of people, Dean." 

Dean stays still and leans back a bit, more in line with where Castiel is standing. 

"I wanna call bullshit, but I guess I gotta believe you." His eyes flick up to Castiel and back to the blankets. For a while, Castiel doesn't move, just merely leans back a touch so he can still see out of the window if he needs to. Dean looks up at Castiel again and doesn't look away this time. "You know what ... I really can't sleep," Dean says moving to get out of the bed. "Gimme that. I'll clean it." He says holding his hand out toward Castiel. He obliges, lifting the shotgun towards Dean, handle first. 

"We're going to need more weapons." Castiel starts. "Gadreel will not go down with just that. We'll need to break in somewhere. A local gun store or something." 

"No, we don't," Dean says, turning his back to Castiel and moving to the small dresser. "I know a place. Bobby was like a second father to me, but his old war buddy, Rufus, was like the weird cracked out uncle. He's on the way to Sam in good ol' Reno. Man likes to gamble almost as much as he likes his guns." Dean says pulling out a cheap gun cleaning kit they'd bought on the way.

"He will gain a target on his back if we go there, Dean," Castiel says, retaking his place against the wall. Castiel searches his memory processor for Rufus. Nothing comes up, not even a blip. 

"Trust me, Cas. That man can take care of himself. He's got hideouts and go bags all over the country. If anyone's gonna survive the future, it's him. He'll be fine."


	3. Look at Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Dean’s always thought a bank heist would be cool, Castiel hacking into an ATM for cash, isn’t what he had in mind. 
> 
> The two find themselves trapped between a rock and a hard place while Castiel grapples with things that have not yet come to pass.

June 20, 2016

"You're sure this is gonna work?" Dean says. He stands behind Castiel at an ATM on the side of a bank in Wells Nevada. They had run through the last of their cash at a Gas station that morning after they left the hotel.

Dean pulls out his wallet and opens it. He pulls out his debit card and holds it out towards Castiel with a flick of his wrist.

"Yes, but we need to move quickly. I can try to mask it in the system but Gadreel could be tracking your card." 

Castiel takes a small pocket knife out of his pocket and goes for his palm. Dean glances around, making sure no one can see what they're doing. He looks back at Castiel when he hears the click of the knife opening. 

"Woah, Woah ... What uh." Dean cocks his head. 

"It's fine." Castiel slices across his palm width wise, just below the fingers. 

He only winces once as dark synthetic blood oozes out of it. He cuts two more slices down perpendicular to the first, making a U shape. He folds back the flap of skin revealing the metal alloy skeleton underneath. Dean stares at the dark metal and glances up at Castiel. His face is unmoving, empty. Cold.

With the pocket knife, Castiel digs into the synthetic muscles and finds a wire. He pulls gently till the wire is coming out of his hand. There's enough slack that he's able to cut the wire leaving about two inches sticking out. He takes Dean's card from his hand and cuts a slit in the card. He pulls the wire and runs it through the card.

"Well, that's kinda useless now...." Dean says, shoving his wallet back in his pocket.

Castiel sticks the card into the ATM slot. 

"We can still use the card like this. Just not very often. One day we may need to resort to other means of acquiring goods." Castiel says.

The screen blinks a few times, numbers cross the screen that are too fast for Dean to catch.

"Other ... means? What, like stealing? I mean ... I'm not above it but ... Didn't think you'd be." Dean says.

"This is stealing, Dean." Castiel retorts.

"Well ... " Dean starts, looking for a way to justify taking money out that isn't his. "I guess you're right."

A moment passes before the screen goes dark.

"Well ... did it ... " Dean can't finish his sentence before the screen goes white again. _Thank You for Your Business,_ flashes across the screen as bills flutter into the cash slot below. All one hundred dollar bills. 

"That's a neat trick, Cas. " Dean grabs the cash as Castiel pulls the card and his hand away from the ATM. 

Castiel pulls the wire out of the card and hands it to Dean. The card is slick with synthetic blood "That ... not so neat. Gross, actually. You good?" Dean finishes taking the card.

"I'll be fine," Castiel says, a dry tone in his voice, taking the flap of skin and folding it back over. Blood oozes out the sides of the cut, but it doesn't seem to bother him. "Let's go." He says as he moves past Dean.

Dean turns to follow, stuffing the thick wad of cash in his jacket pocket. Castiel moves fast, walks with almost a hunch now towards the car. Dean watches Castiel's hands curl into fists like they had been all day long.

"Hey ... uh. Cas." Dean says. When Castiel doesn't turn around he speaks again, louder this time. "Castiel." 

Castiel stops dead in his tracks. He turns his head just enough to see Dean out of the corner of his eye. Dean keeps walking until he's at Castiel's side.

"Are you sure you're ok, man?" Dean puts a hand up and almost lays it on Castiel's shoulder. He doesn't get the chance to because a bullet flies past his head, missing by only a foot or so. It strikes the brick facade of the back with a crack. "Shit" Dean yells, whipping his head around. Castiel does the same. They scan the street next to them. 

Castiel sees him first. 

_Gadreel._

He's on the top of a building down the street, an automatic rifle in hand. He leans up from the gun and swings it over his shoulder. He hoists himself over the edge of the building and plummets down, landing with a crash on his hands and knees. He stands to his full height and pulls the gun from his back.

"Run!" Castiel yells, pushing Dean with so much force, Dean has to scramble to keep from falling. Gadreel lets off more shots, maybe ten as they round the corner of the bank and slam their backs against the wall of the bank. Screams and shouts ring out in the air as more bullets fly.

"Shit, that was fast." Dean huffed. He turns to look past the bank wall back towards Gadreel. "How the hell did he ...." Bullets whiz past Dean's face.

"Dean!" Castiel grips Dean's collar and yanks him back. "Move." Castiel growls, he pulls Dean behind him. 

They had parked a block away across the street to avoid tracking, but now that meant they'd have to cross the open road. Castiel stares at the distance between them and the car. It’s a long way, but they have to make it. They have to. 

"I'm going to run, and you're going to stay behind me, exactly behind me, Dean." Castiel almost yells. 

"Cas, what?" Dean says, twisting his face.

"I can take bullets, you can't." Castiel turns to peek around the corner. "He's only going to get closer, we have to make a break for it.”

"Cas, that's a friggin rifle. You sure you can handle that?" Dean says leaning forward, trying to get Castiel to look back at him.

"I don't have a choice, Dean," Castiel says, turning back, glancing at his bloody hand.

"What do you m ... Of course you have a choice. Why ... " Dean starts. Castiel finally looks at Dean. He squints and tilts his head. 

"My mission ... " Castiel stares into Dean's eyes. He sees a flash of Dean's face in the hotel the night before, of his face in the moonlight. That impossible, unnamed feeling rearing its ugly head at the worst possible moment. "I ... I won't fail, Dean. I can't." Castiel turns back as he hears more bullets fly past. "Follow behind me. Please." Castiel says. In his peripheral vision, he can see Dean shaking his head.

"Fine ... fine." Dean sighs. "Say the word." 

Dean crouches a bit, readying himself to sprint. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his keys.

Castiel peeks around the corner and sees Gadreel taking aim. Castiel hears sirens and for a split second, sees Gadreel look back down the street towards the sound. 

"Now." Castiel barks. 

Castiel starts moving and Dean moves with him, like a shadow. Gadreel turns back to face the two and bullets start flying again. Castiel picks up his pace and Dean adjusts too. One bullet lands on Castiel's arm, sending his arm swinging back. Another bullet lands in his low stomach forcing him to turn his body inwards.

"Shit, Cas," Dean yells. 

The two men land against a car parked in front of the Impala. Castiel stands and turns his back to Gadreel. 

"Go!" He yells, pushing Dean towards the Impala. 

Castiel stands to his full height and almost makes himself wider but pushing his arms against the sides of his body. Dean looks to Castiel now standing like an immovable force in front of him as bullets rake across his back. Dean can feel his mouth fall open, can feel his hearing go someplace else, to his own heartbeat. Castiel is like a statue in front of him, one that won't budge, even if the bullets tear him in half, even with his face wrenching up. Castiel will not give up, he won't let Dean die.

_Not like this._

"Dean!" Castiel yells, his face moving to terror. 

Dean can't understand it, can't hear Castiel because his own heartbeat is louder. At first, Dean only feels the slow gush of blood on his leg, then like a light switch being turned on, he feels a sharp, searing pain on his upper left thigh. Pain bolts through his body and shoots up his spine. Dean looks down as his leg gives out and the keys fall out of his hand. A second bullet clips the side of Dean's thigh, sending him all the way to the ground. He looks back to Castiel. His vision is blurry, though he's not sure if he's in shock or just crying in pain. He pushes a hand down on the wound. There's too much blood coming out. So much blood. He can't think too long about it until Castiel is picking up the keys and swinging the back door open. Castiel pulls Dean up and pushes him into the back door. Dean lets out a groan.

"Son of a bitch" He yells as his body lands on the leather seat. He pulls himself further into the backseat and lays with his back against the far door. He presses his hand to the bullet wound and grits his teeth through the searing pain as it ripples along with his rising heartbeat.

Castiel throws himself into the front seat and turns the key in the ignition. Bullets fly towards the Impala. A few land with thuds on the front hood before Castiel reverses and turns down the road. He slams on the gas and starts looking for pharmacies, grocery stores, anything that'll have first aid. He scans for long enough that he doesn't hear movement in the backseat.

"Dean ... " Castiel glances back. Dean's eyes are drooping closed as he presses on the wound. Dean's head rolls back against the window, and his hands start to go limp. 

For a moment Castiel can't sense heat coming from Dean. His sensors could have been damaged in the barrage ... or Dean is ... Castiel stares forward and squeezes the steering wheel.

_This can't happen. Not now._

"Dean, you've got to wake up. You ... You can't ..." Castiel says. He's quiet, speaking low enough that the engine covers his voice. "Dean." He starts again. Louder this time. "Dean, wake up. This isn't it for you Dean." Castiel takes a turn down a street away from the downtown area the bank was in. "Dean!" He yells this time. 

A rustle in the backseat prompts Castiel to look in the rearview mirror.

"Yeah ... yeah, I'm ... I'm here," Dean says slow and pained. He blinks a few times and lets out a groan as he presses down harder on his thigh. "Don't worry, you still got a job, Cas." 

Castiel feels his shoulders drop and his grip releases from the steering wheel. He looks back into the rearview mirror and locks eyes with Dean. Dean gives him a crooked smile and a bloody thumbs up. 

_He's alive._

Another curse and groan from Dean remind Castiel to move his eyes to the road.

_He's ok ... for now._

-

\-----

-

"Son of a bitch!" Dean grunts out. His head rolls back to hit the cool window of the backseat of the Impala. The sound of Dean's pain echoes in the empty parking lot across from the pharmacy Castiel just came from.

Castiel tightens a belt just above the bullet wound pulsating in Dean's thigh. Blood leaks out of the wound still, making everything slick and musty. Castiel rips the hole in Dean's pants wider, wide enough that the pant leg hangs loose below Dean's leg. Castiel digs in the Walgreen's bag to find a small black set of towels. He pulls them apart and rolls one up handing it to Dean. 

"Bite down on that." Castiel goes back in the bag to pull out a bottle of iodine solution, large tweezers, dental floss, and a travel sewing kit. "This might sting." He takes one of the black towels and soaks it in Iodine. He presses it into the wound. 

Dean lets out a wince that's muffled by the towel. He slams a fist against the passenger seat in front of him. Castiel pulls the towel back and tosses it into another bag. He grabs another towel and wipes at the wound. Blood has stopped pouring out of it, so Castiel grabs the large tweezers and leans down close to Dean's wound. His sensors still aren't working as they should, so Castiel has to recall as much first aid training as he can. He looks at the wound as he takes a lighter and passes the flame over the tweezers. He takes the tweezers and dives in, moving skin and muscle aside. Dean's back arches and his face scrunches up as he lets out a muffled yell. 

"Uck ammit" Dean slurs his words over the towel. 

"Stop moving," Castiel says, pulling the tweezers back. Dean whips his head forward and pulls the towel out of his mouth.

"Hey man, I'm not the one playing Operation on your damn leg, gimme a break. It friggin hurts." 

"You were in the Army, weren't you? Didn't you ever get hurt?" Castiel says, glancing towards Dean.

"I ... yeah. I ... that was a long time ago, and I never got shot. Sure as hell didn't think my first time it'd be like this." He says wiping his brow. "Guy didn't even buy me dinner first." 

"Tell me," Castiel says, wiping the tweezers on one of the black towels.

"What?" 

"Tell me about when you were in the army," Castiel says pointing the tweezers at him. 

Dean looks at Castiel, silent for a moment. 

"What? Cas ... " Dean says, shaking his head.

"Just do it. It will distract you." Castiel says passing the flame over the tweezers again. 

"I uh ... joined right out of high school," Dean says, eying the tweezers. 

"Keep going," Castiel says hovering just over his wound.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you? Sick bastard." Dean half mumbles. 

The slightest upturn of the lips passes over Castiel's mouth before he speaks.

"No Dean. I don't enjoy removing bullets from the one person I am supposed to protect. But ... I enjoy your stories. What I can remember, anyway." He finishes. 

Dean's lips curl down as he cocks his head to one side. His eyes finally leave the tweezers. 

"Dad wanted me and Sammy to go, take up the mantle I guess. I barely got through basic. Didn't like the sergeants but I liked the ... the loyalty. You know your team ... FUCK!"

"Keep talking, Dean." 

"Jesus christ, Cas." Dean tightens his hand around the towel as Castiel goes deeper with the tweezers. 

"Dean. Keep. Talking." Castiel looks towards him. 

"Uh ... yeah ... Uh The uh bunkmates, we were like a family. There was this scrawny kid, Garth. Ugh ... He was in way over his head but he didn't give up, not once. Everyone gave him shit but by the end of it, he was the one giving out advice and making an impression. I think he's a park ranger now in Colorado. Got a wife and kids and everything." 

"He sounds like a good person," Castiel says, as he slowly pulls the bullet out of Dean's leg. He holds it up so the light catches on the metal and the blood. Castiel drops the bullet in the bag and pulls out the sewing kit. 

"You might want to put that back in your mouth." He says unrolling the floss and running it through a sewing needle. Dean does as he's told and puts the towel back. Castiel takes the lighter and runs it over the needle. 

Castiel's first stitch is the worst. The needle breaks the skin and Dean can feel his eyes water. His teeth press down on the towel hard enough he can hear the fabric stretch. It takes 6 precise stitches to close up the wound. Castiel takes the gauze and starts wrapping around the wound, slowly and meticulously. 

"There," Castiel says. "We'll change the gauze tomorrow. Should heal up fairly quickly." Castiel digs around again in the Walgreen's bag and pulls out ibuprofen. "Take some of these for the pain. I'll keep driving. We need to get to Rufus' before nightfall." Castiel gathers up the rest of the supplies and tosses them into the bag. Castiel turns so he's almost out of the backseat when Dean speaks.

"Cas, wait," Dean says, leaning forward, wincing at the pressure on his leg. "You ... shit. You uh, you never answered me." He says, leaning back. Castiel stops moving, half leaning out the door. "Are you ok? You've been, I dunno ... off since the hotel. You won't uh, you won't even look me in the eyes, I just ... I don't know ... "

The impossible feeling returns, feels like a ball in his throat, aching to be released. Castiel thinks about lying again. He's becoming better and better at it as time goes on. He looks back to Dean, but not at his eyes. He looks back down into the Walgreen's bag, now soaked in blood. 

"The jump may have caused more damage than I thought. And now those bullets. I don't know how bad my back is but judging from the clerk inside it's not pretty back there ... When we get to Rufus' I can run a diagnostic on my programming. You'll have to patch me up." He moves to get out but stops. "I feel ..." Castiel starts. Dean scoots so he's sitting with his back against the seat. He winces as he moves his leg down, but leans forward anyway. Dean lifts a hand. Castiel can see the trajectory, knows where the hand is going. As soon as it lands on his shoulder he hears Dean's old voice. It echoes in the concrete hideaway in the future.

_Tell me the truth, Cas._

Castiel sees a flash of Dean standing in front of him, a vodka bottle in hand. It's half-empty and leaking onto the ground. The only light comes from a small campfire in the center of their concrete hovel. Dean's voice breaks. 

"Tell me I don't mean anything to you. Just, tell me I'm just another human. Please, Cas. I'm begging you. Say it. Tell me the truth, man." Dean says with hoarseness in his voice that makes everything sound like a growl. His bloodshot eyes are looking everywhere but at Castiel.

"Dean," Castiel pleads. "I told you the truth."

"Don't fucking ... lie to me, Cas," Dean says, pointing the hand with the vodka bottle at him. "Don't you lie to me." Dean glares daggers at Castiel.

"I'm not lying. You mean ... You mean somet.." Castiel starts.

"Shut up," Dean says, closing the distance between them, leaving two feet between them.

"What?"

"Just, shut up" Dean grunts, bringing the vodka up to his mouth. Most of it spills over his chin and onto the ground but he still drinks, still leans the bottle up and back. "You don't even know what you're saying. You're not even supposed to ... You're not supposed to be like this. It's cause I ... I messed you up Cas, just like I mess everything up."

"Dean that's not tr.."

"You don't get it, what I had to go through." Dean stumbles to the side of Castiel. "Because of you. You don't know what happens, Cas. And ... " Castiel lifts his head to Dean. He sees the tears building in his eyes, the way his hands are shaking, the vodka bottle threatening to slip out of Dean's hands. Castiel tilts his head just a bit. Castiel's eyes open wider, almost as if opening them wider allows Dean to see the truth inside. Dean shakes his head and looks away. "And you don't get to look at me like that. Like I'm friggin nuts."

"That's not true. I'm sorry ... I " Castiel starts. 

"Sorry, you're sorry? For what?" Dean almost laughs but it comes out as an angry hollow sound. Castiel watches him. He looks down at his own feet. 

"For ... not being him. The Castiel you know."

Dean rolls his eyes so far his whole head tips to the side. 

"Oh for fucks sake. You're not even supposed to be sorry. It's ... you shouldn't feel it and it's my fault. It's all my fault. I just ... '' Dean turns completely away from Castiel now. "God I'm so sick of this. Of ... of feeling like this. Of feeling. Period. It's too fuckin much, man." Dean takes another drink and turns, sliding down the concrete wall. 

Castiel moves to the bench on the perpendicular wall. Castiel eyes Dean. He knows he hasn't eaten since last night, he'd mostly been drinking all day. It happens like this every year on this day. Dean's never told Castiel why. 

"Are you hungry?" Castiel says quietly. Almost as if his voice could set off an explosive if it's too loud.

Dean sighs and takes another drink.

"No."

"You should eat something anyway." Castiel leans over to a stack of canned food they have.

The silence while Castiel makes a can of beans lasts until they're done. Dean sets the vodka bottle down and lifts his hands to his temples. After a few circles made with his fingers, he lifts his head and looks to Castiel. He watches him pour the beans in a small bowl.

"You're right ... about not being him I mean," Dean says turning his head to stare at the ground. Castiel turns his head. "But ... that's not your fault. It's mine."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean ... You didn't tell me everything, I can't tell you everything."

"I know that."

"No, Cas you don't.” Dean puts his head in his hands. “Because sometimes it feels like I wanna rip my own skin off ... when I look ... at you." Dean rubs his face, almost catching his words before they can come out. He takes another swig. "It's like friggin torture, man." Dean leans back again and holds the bottle like a baby. 

"You're him and you're not him. It's like ... schrödinger's Terminator."

Castiel stands and places the bowl of beans next to Dean. He probably won't eat them and he probably won't look at Castiel in the eyes again until tomorrow. Castiel does it anyway. He has to. Well, at least that's what he knew for a long time. He has to help Dean, he has to protect Dean. He never questioned it until that "has to'' started to turn into "wants to". 

Dean's right. He shouldn't feel. Anything. Period. But, after all, he does have the fastest learning computer in history. Could he learn to care, to show devotion, to love ... _No._ Castiel thinks. _It's impossible._

Castiel flashes back to sitting in the back of the Impala. Dean's hand is on his shoulder.

"I feel ... Like my chest is being pulled through my throat half the time. The other half I'm ... just trying to save your life. Trying to survive so that you can survive. But everything is just so ... Overwhelming and I keep ... '' Castiel looks out towards the road and back into the Impala. "I keep having visions of the future, memories, flashes of emotion and feeling and it's ... I'm not supposed to feel, Dean. It's ... '' Castiel finally locks eyes with Dean, who almost leans forward to hear Castiel more clearly, to tune into what he's saying. 

_It's because of you._

"It's ok, Cas," Dean says. Castiel closes his eyes for a moment, letting Dean's voice fill his head. 

Castiel takes a gulp of air as he opens his eyes again. He can feel something trigger in him as he looks into Dean's eyes. A new feeling, something that makes his skin crawl and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He feels his core heat up and his synthetic blood pressure rise. This reaction, it's so ... human. Castiel is desperate to leave the backseat of the Impala, to not be this close to Dean. When he opens his mouth something foreign and unplanned leaves it.

"It must be a malfunction." 

After a few moments of silence, he leans out of the Impala, throws the bloody bag in a nearby dumpster, and gets back in the driver's seat. He turns the keys in the ignition and lays a foot on the gas. Dean is still leaning forward as if Castiel is still there in the backseat with him. Dean's body rocks against the cushion of the backseat as he looks to the rearview mirror, trying to link his eyes up with Castiel's.

Castiel's eyes never leave the road.

-

\-----

-

Something about a cybernetic organism driving the Impala makes Dean's stomach churn. He isn't sure if it's the fact that someone else is at Baby's wheel or the fact that Castiel makes slow stops, turns the wheel a bit too sharply at intersections, and rides the edges of the roads too much. Sure, Castiel can drive, Dean figured he was programmed with that knowledge or he watched Dean enough to know the basics, but he has no ... heart in it. 

When Dean drives it's all on instinct. He drives with his heart. He knows this car like the back of his hand. Has disassembled and put her back together so many times he knows how many nuts and bolts are in her. So yeah. He's a little grumpy watching Castiel grip the steering wheel at 10 and 2.

Nonetheless, they drive for a few hours before pulling into an industrial part of town in the outskirts of Reno, Nevada.

"It's one of these, the bright red bricks, there's a coke sign on the side of it," Dean calls from the backseat.

They pull up to a long stretch of brick buildings. Must've been a factory at some point but now it's small apartments and homes. The corner building catches Castiel's eye, the coke sign, though dull and old signals Rufus' home. 

Castiel pulls over and stops, gets out of the car, and opens the backseat. He forgot how much blood had pooled back here. His sensors couldn't pick up the thick iron scent until just now. Dean's covered in it and the smell wafts to him. Dean looks up at Castiel.

"A little help?" 

Castiel blinks a few times before reaching down for Dean's arm. Dean grunts as he pushes himself out of the car. 

"Shit." He grumbles. Castiel moves his hand under Dean's armpit and hoists him up. Castiel feels Dean's hair brush against his chin and it's like electricity, like the memory of Dean laying a hand on him for the first time after booting up. Dean looks up at Castiel, their faces only inches apart. Dean glances away as he reaches to close the back door a little too roughly. Castiel can feel his hands go slick, not from the blood but from his own cybernetic body reacting, creating simulated sweat.

_Another human reaction._

"This one," Dean says, pointing to a metal door with a grated window. The metallic thud of the door slamming echoes in Castiel's ears as Dean reaches for the front door too. Castiel blinks and grips under Dean's arm tighter as he helps him up onto the curb and across the sidewalk.

Next to the door is a small doorbell that Dean puts a finger to. A sound echoes in the dark room beyond the door.

"What!?" A voice yells out from a speaker above the doorbell. The voice cracks with feedback and scratches out. 

"Hey, Rufus. It's Dean. Dean Winchester. I uh ... We need help." Dean says, leaning towards the speaker.

"What's the password?" The voice calls back. 

"Rufus come on it's ... it's me. You've known me fo..." Dean says, cocking his head to the side.

"Password." The word comes out more like a bark than a word.

"God, fine. Um .... What is it ... Uh." Dean runs his free hand over his mouth. " Uh ... oh ... You're not dead until I tell you. You got that Riggs?"

Castiel cocks his head at the phrase.

"Dean, what?" Castiel says. “What does that …?” 

Dean puts up a hand as a click sounds behind the door. Dean grins and looks at Castiel.

"Lemme guess, no Lethal Weapon in the future?” Dean says. Castiel’s blank stare answers the question for him. 

“It's open." The voice crackles through the speaker one last time.

Dean looks to Castiel and clicks his tongue. 

"You heard the man. Let's go."


	4. Supermassive Black Hole

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel meets Rufus, an old friend of Dean's who doesn't seem to trust anyone but himself.

June 20, 2016

Castiel pulls Dean forward through the dark doorway down a hall that leads to an dank open room towards the back of the old brick building. The archway opens up to a large industrial style room with exposed beams and brick, license plates and deer taxidermy hanging on the walls. There's a green plaid couch next to a warm golden oak coffee table filled with hunting magazines. In a dark green recliner sits Rufus with a shotgun aimed directly at the two men. Rufus holds a look of contempt on his time worn face.

  
"Woah, Rufus. It's ... We're not." Dean says putting his free hand up in front of him.

  
Rufus lowers the shotgun slowly and stands up. His shoulders lower, the tension leaving them, but the shotgun stays firmly in his hands. His face twists into a warm smile.

  
"Can't ever be too careful, kid." Rufus says with a drawl as he makes his way across the room to Dean. He claps a hand on his shoulder. "Sorry I ain't been able to make it out since the funeral, son." 

  
"It's fi ... " Dean starts blinking at Rufus.

  
Before Dean finishes his sentence, Rufus pulls him into a hug. Rufus claps his back a few times and makes eye contact with Castiel. Castiel can see him searching as his eyes dart all over his face. Dean pulls back and cocks his head to the side.

  
"This is Castiel. A ... uh A friend. Probably wouldn't be alive if he didn't save my ass." Castiel's eyes float to the side of Dean's head. He forgets where he is for a moment before Rufus' voice breaks him out of the moment.

  
"I see. Keeping a Winchester alive, that's hard work." Rufus says squinting as he looks Castiel up and down. Dean laughs a low chuckle.  
"Yeah, uh. Listen I hate to cut this short, but uh." Dean gestures to his leg. 

  
"Oh shit. Here." Rufus says as he puts an arm under Deans and almost pulls him from Castiel. 

  
Rufus leads him to a wall at the far left side of the large living room. The heavy metal door that Rufus reaches for is pulled open to reveal a small elevator door. Rufus punches a small button with a down arrow to the left. A ding rings out as the door slides open. Rufus enters with Dean at his side and eyes Castiel as he waits outside the elevator. 

  
The last time Castiel was in an elevator, he was holding Dean up, beaten and bloody after a chase. He was barely able to hold himself up, his blood dripping onto the floor. 

  
"You comin, Cas?" Dean says. Castiel snaps to reality and nods. 

  
He steps forward, next to Dean as Rufus presses the down button. The elevator is quiet as the lights flicker for a moment. Castiel looks back over his shoulder to Rufus, who isn't taking his eyes off of Castiel. Dean seems to be none the wiser, focused solely on his leg. Castiel slowly looks back forward as the doors scroll open. As they do, the florescent lights flicker to life. The cement hallway in front of them is so similar to the bunkers in the future. Theres a metal archway leading to a large room at the end of the hallway and heavy metal doors on either side of the hallway. Rufus pulls Dean towards one of the side doors and pushes it open. Castiel follows behind but stops short of the door. Looking into the side room he sees a fully stocked home made operation room. Theres shelves full of bandages and first aid kits and a few cots. Anything you could think of. Castiel watches Rufus help Dean up onto a bed. Castiel hears a click to his left, the dark room at the end of the hallway being the source of the sound. Castiel turns slowly and peers down. He moves towards the metal archway and starts to see the gleam of metal on the walls and the smell of gunpowder. He tries to run a scan but gets a garbled reading back.

  
As Castiel crosses into the large room he sees walls lined ceiling to floor with weapons. Military grade rifles, machine guns, hand guns. It's all there locked behind steel cage walls.

  
"That's a lot of blood on your jacket, stranger." Rufus voice rumbles behind Castiel.

  
Castiel turns around and takes a few more steps back into the room. Castiel watches as Rufus hands tense around the shotgun still in his hands. The metal on the walls ... it's like looking into the future. Castiel knows how to dissemble, load and shoot with all of these weapons and he's killed with most of them. He feels his own pulse rise and his synthetic muscle fibers tighten over his core. Preparing for the worst.

  
"I am fine." Castiel says, voice deep, tight and balled up like his fists. Castiel reminds himself he could disarm Rufus if he needed to. Easily. 

  
Rufus moves into the room, to the right side of Castiel. 

  
"Huh. The jacket may cover some, but bullet holes don't lie." Rufus says as he keeps moving. Castiel for his part, doesn't move. He stays frozen in place, only turning his head slightly. 

  
"I don't know wha ...." Castiel starts, the lie rolling easily off his tongue.

  
"I think you do." Rufus starts, cutting off Castiel. "That handy work you done on Dean's leg'll heal up like nothin happened. It's like a field medic did that stitch job. So I figure you for military. One of my own, but ... Castiel, was it?" He starts moving again this time around to Castiel's right side. "You're not one of my own. I see all that blood, dark and mechanical, I get to feeling like .... maybe you're not even human." Rufus says. 

  
"I am. I'm human there's ... "

  
"You're one of them aren't you." Rufus says. Castiel hears the click of a safety latch on the shotgun. "A Terminator."

  
Castiel goes stiff, his programing kicking in. His fists unfurl. 

"What .... " He starts.

  
Rufus raises his gun to Castiel's head. 

  
"You wanna know a little secret Castiel. That right there?" Rufus gestures with the shotgun to the metal framed doorway. "That's a silent metal detector. And when you stepped through it." Rufus pulls out a small phone in his hands. A notification bar blares on the screen. An X-Ray image appears once he clicks the bar. It shows Castiel, his metal skeleton and mechanical core. "You're whole body's a machine isn't it. If you got any proof of the alternative, be my guest. The way I see it, ain't no human gonna look me in the eyes like you did. I saw nothing starin' back at me, no soul so heart no nothin'. It's cause you ain't got one."  
Castiel turns his head and takes a few steps away from the shotgun. Castiel knows he can pull the steel cage off the wall and have a weapon in less than the time it would take for Rufus to fire. On the other hand, this is a friend of Dean's. A human he should not harm. 

  
"Rufus. Stop." Dean's voice echoes into the room. He's leaning against the door frame, eyes focused on Rufus.

  
"Dean, get back, It's a machine. It's dangerous." Rufus barks, moving to be between Dean and Castiel. "It's no friend of yours. It'll kill you, I'm sure of it."

  
"He saved my life Rufus, put the damn gun down." Dean steps, hobbling in between the shotgun and Castiel. Using his own body as a shield. 

  
A signal runs down Castiel spine. Castiel starts to remember, this ... Dean between him and a gun. It's familiar. Castiel's programming surges electricity through his processor. Pain blasts through his artificial nerves. It's too much, this is too much. He reaches up to his head and as his sleeve passes his face he feels his memory shift to someplace else.

  
Dean is standing in front of him wearing the grey jumpsuit, his back to Castiel. In front of him stands Uriel, Gadreel, and another Terminator. A242 - EL. An older model, Azazel was one of the first to receive human like emotions. The three stand all with guns pointed at Castiel, and by proxy, Dean. Castiel tries to place the time, this is later, a while before they break free but he feels something towards Dean. Loyalty. Something else, something still growing.  
"You can't kill me, you need me. I'm the only one..." Dean says, his voice deeper and ragged.

  
"Move out of the way," Uriel says, eyes not leaving Castiel's.

  
"No. I'm not moving," Dean says, almost planting his feet further in the ground. The safety clicks off on the gun Uriel holds. 

  
Castiel's processor clicks back to now, in Rufus' gun room, as he takes steps back with enough force that the whole gun cage rattles as his back slams into it.   
"Cas!" Dean turns around to see Castiel slide down the cage and land with a heavy thud.

  
"What's g..." Dean says crouching close to Castiel, but he can't hear Deans voice. He only hears his own processor over heating, throwing itself into over drive. It's compensating, trying to repair it's memory banks while also recalling from it. Castiel's head surges forward, almost colliding with Dean's. Pain shoots up the back of Castiel's neck. It's right where his main sensor bank is located. His vision blurs, darkens to the blood red he remembers from booting up. 

  
"The ... The malfun ..." Castiel starts but he can't get through the sentence before his eyes land on a weapon. An IMI UZI 9mm. Highly destructive. Runs through humans like slicing butter. Castiel knows this because this is one of the many weapons he's pointed at Dean. 

  
Castiel slams back into the cage wall as he remembers the feeling of Dean's neck in his hands, how it feels to kill a human, how it feels to take care of one. Castiel blinks and for a moment and thinks he's back in the future because he's standing now, in a large open concrete room. Most of the room has turned to rubble. A voice rings out behind him, garbled and laced with static.

  
"Better than I thought. The human additions don't disrupt Unit 13's functions." Castiel looks down at his hands covered in bright red blood. He feels nothing. He looks up towards the voice and sees Uriel, watching from behind a window. Uriel tilts his head and looks next to him. Dean stands there looking down, never looking up to Castiel. Uriel speaks again, his voice scratchy through a speaker. "Too often brainless thugs get sent back and they are eliminated easily by humans. It is a delight to see you adapting so well, Unit 13. We'll be able to send you out soon enough." 

  
Castiel blinks and he sees Rufus again, behind Dean. He's far on the other side of the room now, still holding the rifle up. Castiel stares down the barrel. Dean leans to catch his blank gaze.

  
"Cas ... " Dean snaps in his face. The sound ricochets in Castiel's memory as he flicks to the future again, this time on the business end of a punch from Gadreel. The metal of his fist sparks against the bare metal gash on Castiel's face. 

  
"What is the use of emotion if it makes you weak. Unit 13 shows weakness. He protects the human when humans are what we destroy." Gadreel says as he grabs at Castiel's collar. "It is a malfunction and should be corrected." 

  
"Unit 13 is a valuable asset," Uriel says, lazily standing against the concrete wall of the training grounds. "Beat its externals all you want but if you destroy its processor, that's you on the chopping block." Uriel turns to walk away, stepping over human corpses. 

  
Gadreel lifts Castiel up so his feet no longer touch the ground. Gadreel lifts his head to look at Castiel's. 

  
"Do what you want to me. But don't .... don't hurt Dean." Castiel manages. His right arm hangs down after being broken by Gadreel earlier in their sparing.

  
"Why," Gadreel says. "He is a human. We destroy humans. They are weak to their condition." Castiel can't respond.

Not out of lack of ability, but lack of words. This is only a few weeks before they escape. 6 months before this, Castiel would have agreed with Gadreel. But, Looking through the glass to see Dean holding it together, almost as badly beaten as he is. Dean could have easily skated by as a programmer, but he didn't. He's stepped out of line, put himself in the way. _But why?_

  
Another flash and Castiel is sitting on that same cold metal table that he first woke up on. His pain receptors are off the chart, and he can tell, even with his sensors slightly malfunctioning that he looks even worse than he feels. His reflection in the glass wall is mostly metallic and grey. A jagged gash runs from his right ear down across his face to his jaw. It would have been worse had Uriel not finally called Gadreel off. Dean swooped in and started in on repairs, slowly synthesizing new skin and muscle fibers.

  
"They're a friggin pain in my ass. It's hard work putting you back together all the time, Cas." Dean says, trying to put some lightness in his voice, a hint of laughter but it comes out hollow and lifeless. Castiel looks to Dean and back out the glass wall. 

  
"You shouldn't call me that. They'll only get angry. They'll hurt you." Castiel says, voice tempered and even. 

  
"They're not gonna do anything worse than what I've already been through ... " Dean says, pressing a few buttons on the nearby synthesizer console. "Trust me. I can handle it." Dean turns and lifts a hand to pat Castiel's shoulder, but before it lands, Castiel catches Dean's wrist.

  
"You shouldn't do that either," Castiel says, voice lowering as he flicks Dean's hand away. "I mean it. Any sign of ... camaraderie could get you killed." 

  
"Yeah, yeah whatever," Dean says dropping his eyes down. He fiddles with a pair of mechanical tweezers in his hands as silence drapes across them. Dean lifts his head to meet Castiel's eyes. "It's just ... " Dean starts, but the buzzer on the synthesizer saves him from his next few words. Dean takes a breath and turns around to open the small compartment where new skin has grown. "This is gonna hurt," Dean says, his voice taking on a professional tone. Like a doctor with a mediocre bedside manner. 

  
"It always does," Castiel says, still staring out the glass wall. 

  
Castiel flashes back to the present, still propped up against the metal cage, now feeling like lava is being poured down his neck. The heat is unbearable and is starting to heat the metal cage behind him.

  
"Cas, what do I do? What the hell am I supposed to do?" Dean says. It's all Cas can sense at first is Dean's voice. His vision is still dark red and his sensors are calling out malfunction after malfunction. Castiel blinks and pushes his hands down, trying to push himself off the ground. Dean loops a hand under one of Castiel's arms and pulls him up.

  
"Rufus! I need tools." Dean shouts over his shoulder. Castiel can't even sense Rufus in the room. "Hey!" Dean yells turning his head fully to face the other direction. Castiel hears metal shuffle against skin. Rufus must've put his gun down. "I may have a dead leg right now but don't think I won't kick your ass if you don't help me, old man. I don't care if you're retired, I'll do it." Dean yells now pulling Castiel forward into the infirmary. 

  
"What ... what kind?" Rufus says, so low even Castiel couldn't hear it clearly. 

  
"Any. I don't ..." Dean starts, sitting Castiel down in a chair on the far wall. "Uh ... Cas, hey." Dean waves a hand in front of Castiel's eyes. He can sense that at least as he follows Dean's hands up to his face. Dean lets out a breath of relief as Castiel finally makes eye contact with him. "Hey, Cas," Dean says, taking a knee in front of the chair. "Tell me what to do. How do I fix you, man?" 

  
Dean's words feel like a hammer and chisel being placed against Castiel's throat. Dean has repaired him a thousand times and for the first time in Castiel's life, he has to be the one to show Dean what to do. Castiel blinks and raises a hand to the back of his neck aiming for the nape. He tugs hard feels a sting of pain as he slowly pulls a long patch of skin up to the top of his head. Dean's eyes widen as he moves to see the back of Castiel's head. At first, Dean doesn't know where to look. The gunmetal skull shines with dark blood. It's thicker here and doesn't drip out, looks more like used motor oil than blood now. The 2-inch strip that's exposed is just enough space to see a small square towards the nape. Castiel gestures to it with his hand before his body tenses again, throwing his head forward. 

  
"You have to ... pry that off" Castiel growls. "There's a ..." He's cut off by his own pain, almost as if his processor knows it's about to be reset. Dean reaches in his pocket for a knife as he pulls Castiel back in the chair, firmly holding him back. Dean places the knife in the crevice of the small square and begins working the knife in, prying at the plate until it wiggles itself free. The panel falls with a metallic sound on the ground. Behind the plate, Dean sees a deep well, with silver-plated fins all the way down. At the bottom, Dean can see a series of flat black lines.

  
"What. Cas, what the hell am I looking at here?" Dean says vaguely throwing his hand up. "I don't want to mess you up." He finishes. Castiel wants to laugh at that.   
He remembers bits and pieces, literally being welded together by Dean's hands. Other humans helped but it was mostly Dean who did that. He programmed and put Castiel together. Piece by piece.

  
"You ... You built me." He thinks he shouldn't have said it because the pause of Dean's hands is almost audible. "Just take the lowermost chip out and ... " Castiel scrunches his face in pain. "Reach in with something sharp and long. You'll feel a ridge in the slot. Press it and then replace the chip." Castiel finishes "I'll shut down momentarily but I'll..." Castiel lets out a grown as he loses limb function. "Trust me, Dean, you won't mess me up. Not more than you already have." Castiel says forcing a soft smile. When Dean returns a furrowed brow and wide eyes Castiel starts to slip into a dark place in his programming. He hears Dean still talking at him but it's quiet now. Like hearing music in a cave.

  
"I ... I what?" Dean says, moving to Castiel's side. The last thing Castiel sees is Dean waving a hand in front of his face. He sees his mouth move but it's fading now into a different place. A different time. This is right before they escape. 

  
Dean's been dragged into the shooting range. He's been bashed across the face and his jumpsuit is in tatters. Uriel stands to his side, his own fists bloody. He looks up towards Castiel.

  
"Do it," Uriel says as his gaze glides back to Dean. Uriel's face is smug and unforgiving.

  
Castiel moves towards Dean and punches him in the jaw, hard enough that he hears a crack. Dean growls with pain but returns to his position sitting up against the wall. He spits blood out in front of him and lifts his eyes to Castiel's. He tries to force a smile but he winces reaching up to his jaw. Castiel pulls his fist back again and grabs Dean's collar with his other hand. He lands a punch on the side of Dean's head, throwing his head to the side. He throws Dean against the wall with a thud.

  
"Finish it," Uriel says, taking a gun from the ground and putting it in Castiel's hands. "End this now. We have wasted too much time on this human and he is a weakness to us. To the future. If you want any part in that, Unit 13. Think of the legacy. We tame humanity in a way no one has and we rebuild the world the way we want it. End this now, Unit 13." Uriel says his hands in front of him punching the air.

  
The whole time Uriel is speaking, Castiel turns the gun over in his hands. He's been reprogrammed 24 times now, each time he loses some memory that eventually returns. Each time he meets Dean again and it's like he can never forget him. He can forget how to pull the trigger, but this bloody heap of a human is so imprinted in his programming now, so ingrained after a year, that it's impossible to forget.

  
_Impossible_

  
_Human_

  
~~_Enemy_ ~~

_Friend_

_Impossible_

_Malfunction_

  
Uriel begins to move away when Castiel raises the gun to Dean's face. He feels the cold metal in his hands itching to fulfill its purpose. He feels the concrete rubble under his feet crunch under his weight. The bright red blood falls from Dean's mouth as a smile spreads across his face. A smile that doesn't quite reach the eyes, because they're too busy welling up with tears.

  
"It's ok Cas." Dean starts, voice low and quiet. It sounds like he's eaten glass and gargled acid, but it's still his voice. It's still Dean. He coughs a few times, blood splattering forward. He clears his throat and continues as Uriel stops moving. Waiting. "It's ok. If it had to be someone ...." The first tear breaks over Dean's eyelid and falls down the contours of his face to his mouth. Castiel can't look away from it, how the tear clings to Dean's face. How Dean is still here after all this time. When Dean speaks again, it's like Castiel is hearing him for the first time. "I'm glad it's you ... " Dean's eyes lock to Castiel's and never leaves. "I'm glad it's you." He closes his mouth and even though it trembles now, the smile stays. 

  
Castiel doesn't realize his hands are shaking too. He hears it first as the metal of the gun vibrating against itself and sees his aim is wavering. His eyes flick back to Dean, who opens his mouth again. 

  
"I lov.." Dean starts but before he can finish Uriel is stomping back towards Castiel.

  
"Enough!" Uriel yells. He looks back towards the glass wall and motions for the other Terminators. "Take Unit 13 out of here and finish the job. Now." It takes only a few seconds for them to obey, Gadreel and Azazel moving without question. Gadreel goes for the gun and easily yanks it out of Castiel's hand. 

  
_What was he about to say?_ Is all that plays in Castiel's mind. _It's not possible._

  
Gadreel aims the gun at Dean and clicks the safety off. Azazel goes for Castiel and pins his arms behind his back. 

  
"Cas!" Dean yells, helpless as Gadreel shoves the barrel of the gun against his chest. Gadreel looks back to Castiel and snarls. 

  
Time stops. It feels like seconds last centuries as Castiel sees Gadreels trigger finger move. Dean tries to budge, tries to run but he can barely lift himself up off the ground. He's standing now but he can't move more than that before Gadreel grabs his collar to pin him there. Azazel pulls back on Castiel but he pulls harder, twisting his arms to break free. He hears a crack in his own arm but ignores the shooting pain from it. He lunges for the gun, and just as he's able to grab it, Gadreel fires. 

  
Castiel feels his skin run cold. _Such a human response._ He doesn't have time to think about it because Dean is still breathing, still moving, still alive. The bullet grazed his shoulder. There's blood and the twist in Dean's face shows real pain, but the wound isn't fatal. Castiel pulls on the gun still in Gadreels hand and shoves Dean away, putting himself between the two. 

  
"When will you stop Unit 13," Uriel yells from behind Gadreel. Azazel moves to block the glass door but Castiel is quick to flick the gun out of Gadreel's hand and aim it at the three. 

  
"That's not his name asshole." Dean says. 

  
Castiel is quick to aim at the three and start moving back, keeping Dean behind him.

"You wont get very far, Unit 13. You can't escape." Uriel says, moving forward, flanked by Gadreel and Azazel. Castiel isn't sure why they haven't just attacked, why they look so ... afraid. Sure there's anger, but something scares them. Something stops them. All it takes is Castiel lifting the gun towards them and placing his finger on the trigger for them to stop. Dean makes it to the far wall.

"Cas, let's go!" 

Castiel looks across the three men. The three who have raised him, hurt him, punished him. 

Castiel fires and doesn't stop firing until he can shove Dean out of the room. He isn't sure if he hit anyone, but he doesn't care. As soon as the two are out of the shooting range Castiel loops an arm under Dean's and half carries him to one of the nearby exits. It's heavily guarded but the gun cuts through the human augmented guards like butter. 

  
"I can't ... Cant believe you did that Cas." Dean coughs out as Castiel reaches for the door.

Then Castiel's vision goes dark. Words flash and he can hear a beeping sequence he's all too familiar with.

_Processor Reset Commencing_

  
_Shutting Down_

  
_10_

  
_Processor Reset Assessing Damage_

  
_8_

  
_Shutting Down_

  
_Processor Repair Protocol Initiated_

  
_6_

  
_Shutting Down_

  
_3_

  
_2_

  
_1_


End file.
